


Father & Daughter

by colls



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Community: caffeinatedmagic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:17:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colls/pseuds/colls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six drabbles (<i>100 exactly, each one - I have no idea why AO3 says 604</i>) about Sam & Jacob Carter.<br/>Written for <a href="http://fandomwords100.livejournal.com/">fandomwords100</a> using the March prompts @ <a href="http://caffeinatedmagic.dreamwidth.org/">caffeinatedmagic</a>.<br/>I'm also in the midst of writing a larger story with them and wanted to try some unrelated drabbles to get a feel for them and their relationship. So...uh...practice?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father & Daughter

**Flowers**

Sam's mom loved flowers. Even living in military housing, she'd always managed to plant something. And she'd often have cut flowers arranged in a couple of rooms. Sam hadn't given it much thought, it seemed normal. Like having cereal for breakfast or brushing your teeth.

It hit her a couple of months after her mom had died. The house seemed empty, hollow and graceless. 

Her dad stopped at the supermarket on the way home. Sam placed a cheap bouquet in the cart. He didn't say a word, but squeezed her hand gently as they made their way to the checkout.

 

**Freckles**

When Sam was little, she was cursed with freckles. She outgrew them, eventually. But Jacob remembers one summer afternoon she came running home from playing soccer, tears streaming down her face. She'd marched into her room and slammed the door. 

Jacob hovered outside her bedroom door. He was at a loss, worried that she was missing her mother. Everyone, teachers and school counselors, all thought Sam was handling her mother's death brilliantly. Jacob was worried she was bottling it up.

“Sam?”

“Boys are stupid.” 

“Yes, they are.”

“Freckles aren't mutant spots” Sam choked out through sobs.

“No, Sam. They're not.”

 

**Metaphors**

The conversation was bound to be awkward. Jacob had almost called Sam's aunt in Idaho, but he thought that cowardly. He didn't want his daughter to think that it was anything to be shameful of, he could handle this. He could.

He had read a pamphlet that explained to him why they called it the birds and bees. He had prepared a very straightforward, almost scientific, speech about bees and their pollen and birds and their eggs if only he could find the right starting point.

“Look,” he finally said at breakfast one morning, “just.... you're a smart girl, Sam.”

 

**Sunset**

With the help of the Tok'ra, SG-1 prevented a minor system lord from enslaving the people on P3X-412. Sam lingered after the mission; partially to see more of their new cloaking device but mostly because it was one of Selmak's missions, which meant Dad would be around.

The Tok'ra fell silent as she approached and Selmak closed his eyes. Eyes opened, Jacob announced they were done for the day.

“Selmak, we need...”

“It can wait. Sam and I are going to see what the sunset looks like over that ridge.” 

“How is that possibly important?” 

“How is it not?”

 

**Comfort**

She'd had more years with him than she would have. Good years. She'd gotten to know him again, and he'd seen her work. He'd been proud of her.

He died saving the world. Hard to deny when everyone kept mentioning it to her. Did they think she didn't know? Was she supposed to be happy?

He was her dad. Yes, he was a Tok'ra ally and a general - important to all sorts of people. But he was her dad.

She came back to the fact that she'd had more years with him. A small comfort, but she'd take it.

 

**Poetry**

As she was sorting through some of her father's things, Sam came across a moleskin journal that looked like it had a lot of miles on it. Opening it, she found the familiar, even writing of her father's hand. A collection of random thoughts and notes sprinkled with reminders to buy milk, it seemed very disorganized and not at all like her father.

Nestled between ruminations on Mark's attempt at a rock band and amusement over Sam taking 'shop' as an elective, Sam encountered moments of beautiful prose that spoke volumes about his love for his family with aching clarity.


End file.
